


They Burned My Eyes

by a_fearsome_thing



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 21:22:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17475206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_fearsome_thing/pseuds/a_fearsome_thing
Summary: Shiro finds Allura sitting alone with the stars and her grief. He can't just leave.





	They Burned My Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> The quote at the beginning is from _The Book Thief_ by Markus Zusak

_He had not seen the outside world for twenty-two months._

_…“How did it look?”_

_Max lifted his head, with great sorrow and great astonishment._ _“There were stars,” he said. “They burned my eyes.”_

_Four of them. Two people on their feet. The other two remained seated. All had seen a thing or two that night._

_This place was the real basement. This was the real fear. Max gathered himself and stood to move back behind the sheets. He wished them good night, but he didn_ _’t make it beneath the stairs…_

From a Himmel Street window _, he wrote,_ the stars set fire to my eyes.

~*~*~*~*~

It’s been a long day, and the expansive views of the observatory are calling. Shiro stretches his arms above his head, his back cracking nicely as he walks down the hall to finally enjoy some alone time. He palms the door open with a sigh and pulls to a stop when he finds the room already occupied.

His first, overwhelming reaction is disappointment but then he takes the second process what he’s seeing.

It’s Allura, her white hair and pale robe stark against the backdrop of space where she sits in front of the windows, arms wrapped around her knees and shoulders slumped.

He hesitates, torn. She clearly came here to be alone, but the way she’s holding herself...something’s wrong. Before he can make a decision one way or the other, she turns around and spots him hovering awkwardly. She gives him a shaky smile and while her face is dry, her eyes are full of grief.

He can’t leave her alone like this.

Shiro steps carefully to her side, lowering himself to sit close enough to be present but not touching as she rests her chin on her knees. She doesn’t say anything, so he leans back on his hands and looks up at the stars.

“This is my favorite room in the castle,” he says. “The view is incredible.”

If he finds the right opening, he thinks she might talk to him. He has a tendency towards silence, but Allura always struck him as the type who would talk about her problems if she found the right person. After all they’ve been through, he hopes she can trust that he’ll be there to support her. She’s technically his commanding officer, but they tend to lead as a team.

“I love to come here to think. It helps put everything in perspective, you know? Reminds me why we’re out here.”

Allura’s fingers clench around her upper arms and she curls further into herself, blinking rapidly. Shiro leaves it out there, letting her take up the conversation or not.

They sit together in silence for just a few minutes, and Shiro works to keep his body language relaxed and open.

“Sometimes,” Allura says, voice quiet but steady, “we are in such a position that the light from Altea’s star is visible to us.” Her fingers clench again, holding tight. “Sometimes I can pretend Altea is still there beside it, waiting for me to come home.” She buries her face in her knees and continues, muffled, “But sometimes there is a new light beside it and I know it is the explosion that destroyed my home. This far away, Altea is still burning after 10,000 years.”

Her shoulders begin to shake, and Shiro’s heart breaks. He wraps his arms around her and she tilts onto his shoulder but doesn’t uncurl, leaving her face hidden and her arms tight around herself. He doesn’t let up on his embrace, though—if she wanted the space, she never would have allowed him to move her an inch. He rests his head on hers and takes in the stars with new eyes.

He wonders which one is Altea.

He’s never lost his entire planet before. He’s never lost his whole people and 10,000 years in one fell swoop. He’s never had the weight of the entire galaxy suddenly thrust onto his shoulders while he lost everything.

He can’t possibly understand everything Allura’s going through, but he has lost an arm, a year, a future, and a family, and most importantly, he can hold on when she needs to let go.

“After I escaped from the Galra—and the other Paladins got me away from the Garrison—they took me back to this old shack out in the desert. When I woke up, Keith told me how long I’d been gone, that I’d been missing for a year.” He keeps his posture loose, fighting not to tense up. “I spent the entire night outside, watching the stars move across the sky, trying to remember.” He’d been there for hours, watching stars and planets and satellites, feeling the wind blowing and remembering—how loud the desert could be, himself, _home_. He couldn’t remember his missing year, he couldn’t remember getting a new arm or losing his old one. “I didn’t want to believe him, but he’s never lied to me before.” It’s hard to put into words, exactly what he’d felt that night. It’s harder to come to grips with the dissatisfaction he had felt with the truth, but if anyone has a chance of understanding, it’s Allura. His voice goes quieter. “It felt like it should have been longer.”

At least it was only a year. He should have been happy it was only a year, especially since he has such a limited number to begin with.

He could have lost so much more to the Galra.

And yet… _and yet_. It doesn’t feel like it was only a year.

He looks up at the stars and tries to find his balance.

“It was the blink of an eye,” Allura says. Her face is tear-stained when she looks up, her nightgown damp. She doesn’t look at him. “Between one moment and the next, my whole world was gone. I didn’t even realize I had fallen asleep.” Her face scrunches up in a fresh wash of pain. “I just blinked, and they were gone.”

She lets go, turning in his hold to clutch his shirt and bury her face in his chest as she sobs. “Shiro, they’re all gone.”

A lump form in Shiro’s throat, and he wraps his arms more securely around her, pulls her close, and just holds her. There’s nothing he can say.

“Oh, Princess,” a voice chokes out from the doorway, and Shiro shifts enough to watch the mice scurry to Allura’s side as Coran stands in the open doorway with sorrow etched deeply into the lines of his face.

Allura cries harder, shuddering in his embrace.

Coran has a blanket in his hands but he hesitates to come any closer.

He’s never even paused to jump to Allura’s defense before, and Shiro’s eyebrows furrow at the sudden out of character action. He would think this, especially, is a situation where Coran is most needed, since he’s the only other Altean left.

“I didn’t know, Princess, I swear I didn’t know,” he chokes out, clutching the blanket in a stranglehold. Shiro’s eyes widen in understanding.

He was awake when Allura was forced into cryosleep.

He took away her  chance to say goodbye.

It’s not just grief on his face—it’s guilt.

Allura reaches out for him anyway. “Coran.”

All hesitation vanishes and he falls to her side, reaching for her as well. Allura twists to grab him and Shiro lets her go so that she can shift into Coran’s arms, but she grabs hold of his hand before he can pull it fully away. She tucks it against her chest and clutches it there even as Coran gathers her into his own arms and the mice crawl into her lap.

She holds tight as the two Alteans weep for their lost people and Shiro rests his other hand on Coran’s shoulder, staying quiet.

“I don’t want to be the last, Coran,” Allura whispers.  “I can’t.”

It’s a heavy thing to carry, the culture and legacy of an entire planet.

“I am truly sorry that you are the one to suffer this burden,” Coran says with heartbreak in his voice, “I am. But I could choose no one better, my princess.”

Shiro squeezes his shoulder. “We may not be Altean, but you’re not alone. We’re a team, and I will do my best to live up to King Alfor’s legacy as a Paladin of Voltron. He won’t be forgotten.”

Coran meets his eyes as Allura takes another deep, shuddering breath and pushes herself upright, releasing her grip on both Shiro and Coran.

“Thank you, Shiro,” she says, wiping at her eyes. She sits up straight and tall, regal, and meets his gaze with clear eyes, full of grief still but with her core of strength and determination shining through.

He’s not stupid enough to think this fixes everything. It doesn’t bring Altea back, nor her people, nor does it give her a chance to say goodbye.

She looks back up at the stars, at Altea as it burns, and he puts his arms back around her shoulders. Coran disappears briefly and comes back to tuck the blanket around them both, sitting again at Allura’s side and taking her hand.

It doesn’t give her back her people, but they’re a crew now and that means family. No matter how lonely she gets, she won’t be alone.

They won’t let her be.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on Christmas when I was alone and sad and unable to go home, so Allura ended up alone, and sad, and unable to go home. When I first wrote down the quote and knew I wanted to write a story with Shiro in it, I admit I expected a lot more Coran and not quite this, but such is writing. 
> 
> I have to give credit to that one panel of Star Wars comics with Leia that I can't link right now but that I definitely blatantly rip off when she talks about seeing the explosion that destroyed Altea. And also the massive amounts of Doctor Who clips and episodes I watched while editing this to fully immerse myself in the "I'm the last of my kind" angst. 
> 
> I don't know if I'm 100% pleased with it, but I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> As always, comments are lovely and you can find me on tumblr at thehouseofthebrave.
> 
> (And I have not yet seen season 8, but I've heard whispers of a spoiler and this might seem extra angsty if I heard correctly. I'm sorry. Not my intention)


End file.
